Количество артистов: 43,846 Количество текстов песен: 642,600
Количество артистов: 43,846 Количество текстов песен: 642,600
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Артист: Brotha Lynch HungНазвание : Brotha Lynch Hung and Siccmade Muzicc PrДанные: текст песни / слова песни Жанры : gangsta rap horrorcore rap hip-hop sacramento Видео:
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It`s a must that I bust any strap ya hand ta me It`s inherited, it runs in the family Niggaz in the town got pounds of beef Threaten a niggaz life, make it sound so sweet I peel `em back like corn-on-the-cob, cap peel `em Make `em sound like a whore on the job Witta Mac in the backpack, fulla that crack sack Gettin` it off (Better have my muthafuckin money) Bitch where my siccmade `til I die shit, nobody saw So I was able ta wipe the blood off the hallway walls Ain`t got nothin ta live for Can`t even trust a bitch, might have ta leave her alone Ma had ta dig a ditch, shit so rigorous Dealin` wit hataz, snitchaz, and bitchaz, get they brains gone Find a new home, you one life is gone Cuz I`m O-One, check the clock And if these walls could talk, muthafuckaz`ll be shot I`m about ta go 51-50, got nobody wit me Stressed out like Whitney, Bobby Brown, weed and whiskey Smokin` Newports, no support But like Too Short I keep it goin` Shootin` up forts, who in this sport wanna fuck wit me Come on the court, rippin` out insides Puttin` stains on thangs, that`s when I rip-ride And I slip-slide through the Gardens witta bloody t-shirt, it won`t hurt Look at this way, 6 feet deep in the dirt won`t hurt Flirtin` wit murda, I leave `em unheard of And I`m sicca than period pads drippin` All over your hands gettin` The back seat or the trunk, it`s your choice Dead or alive, smothered and fried The way you better uncover your eyes, I`m in the skies Witta 9 tryin` ta take out your spine Nobody know crime, throw up that sicc sign And strike hard like stricc-nine No recovery, you other G niggaz betta duck Leave you in the tuxed up Psycho, off the wall like Michael Always paranoid cuz I be blowin` out that nitro All day, every day, murda spray, got you in Glad Bags Headed for the pad, and you can ask my dad I was a scavenger, 14 years old eatin` scabs Graduated ta nigga meat, but I don`t wanna brag Fuck Jeffry Dohmer, he a muthafuckin fag I got nigga nuts and guts in the bag, draggin` `em ta the pad [Chorus] (Corpse came ta dinner) Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask (Corpse came ta dinner) Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask (Corpse came ta dinner) Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask (Corpse came ta dinner) Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask [Verse 2] Fuck under the influence, I`m hella fucked up Swervin` down the freeway, spillin` my cup Tryin` take you out this rap on the Underbelly He ain`t shit, he `bout ta be in the trunk smelly By me and my Relly, you never know Whatever tho, I got auto magazines and that weak intro What you got against me? Don`t you know I rip niggaz up, turn `em ta minced meat Well if you got some sense, beat it, like raw eggs I used ta have hella homies, now they all hate But I`ma leave it alone, I`m on my own like a voodoo nigga If a nigga want ta get ate, what would you do nigga I was too cool wit `em, group of niggaz and they tripped on me Gave `em a little bit of fame, then they dipped on me But you know, it`s all in the game, tell the crip homie Ta hit `em witta slug in the brain, that`s what you get from me Crash dummy, your careers defected And you ain`t sold a record last time I checked it You just keep knockin`, I feel disrespected Now your neck got disconnected by the Lynch Hung necklace Hey, I leave `em red, and I don`t eat the head Let the Tec spit and chop niggaz down ta the ground like Judge Dread Come up in the door lookin` just like a fed And you call yourself a rap vet Get out the bed, and let me fuck her like she should be fucked All in the butt, wit the 9 milly, swallowin` nut And you see me in black clothes, creepin` from the back Don`t know how ta act, black blankets fulla Mac`s I use `em for nutsacks and full body sacks Better not let your daughter out, end up in the slaughter house Chokin` and spittin`, chest open and bleedin` And me fuckin` her from the back, and I hope for you ta see it [Chorus] | Похожие исполнители:
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